Afterall
by jane.l.doe
Summary: As the wizarding world around them comes to pieces, an unlikely duo must put them together to uncover new secrets and new threats, to find their way their way through a tangled web of lies and deal with pain, love, loss and hope.
1. Chapter One: Problem Of Pain

**Author's Note**: So here's the deal. I scrapped the last story which was similar to this one. Why? Because I had a brilliant flash of genius (or so I think) last night. I couldn't fall asleep because I had this one scene stuck in my head. So, naturally, I wrote it down. I wrote all night, and I think it's much better than the previous story. All in all, it's just a better way to get to the same pinnacle event.

There are some things you should know, though.

1. I don't know where it's going. It's just happening. When I'm writing it, I'm quite literally making it up as I go. It's kind of like a movie that' playing in my head.

2. Therefore, I don't know how compatible it will be with HBP. Obviously, it won't be DH compatible because it's taking place at Hogwarts during the seventh year.

3. As you can see in this chapter, I like to use flashbacks. It serves a purpose, I assure you (it has to do with the dramatic element of the story). Flashbacks will be in italics for future reference. Each chapter will be a combination of current happenings in the story and flashbacks leading up to the main event below. I'm hoping it doesn't cause too much confusion. If it does, though, feel free to ask questions and I'll try to clear them up ASAP.

Hopefully you enjoy the seriously revised version of this story. Feel free to leave your thoughts and questions in a review. I'll answer any questions in the Author's Note of the next chapter. Oh, and as always, please excuse any spelling and grammar errors.

_Jane L. Doe  
_

* * *

_  
_

It was an immediate pain, not at all gradual. The crushing weight on her chest that had sent her across the room had been replaced by a relentless ache. Every movement she made was intensified by her aching muscles. Hermione Granger had been reduced to a helpless heap beside a rustic fireplace. When she tried to pick herself up off the dusty floor, a shallow breath rattled and gurgled from her chest. The overwhelming pain in her chest was nothing compared to the foreboding spread of warmth in her lungs. It was harder and harder for her to breathe, to catch her breath.

The dust had yet to settle, but she knew exactly where she was. The Shrieking Shack. She was in the living room next to the staircase that was beginning to collapse into itself. The furniture, moth-eaten and covered in a thick dust, was scattered in the room. The couch had been upturned as she was thrown into it, the heavy velvet curtains ripped clear from their rings in the fall. In the scuffle, she had lost her wand. In the unsettling silence that filled the room, Hermione fell back onto the wooden floor. The floorboards looked like the crooked teeth of the house; they were aged, worn and some were missing altogether.

It was an awful place to die, she thought.

Hermione's head rolled back against the floor, her eyes wandering into the night outside. Oddly enough, for this time of year, the sky was cloudless. It didn't look its usual inky black. The moon, so bright, lit up the night sky. The moon looked unnatural; completely round and luminescent. It overpowered the stars, drawing her attention. The full moon.

The full moon. The words played over and over in her mind, like a mantra. The odd occurrences, the late nights, the missed classes, the unruly appearance, the bruises and cuts, the broken bones.

"A werewolf," she murmured.

He couldn't understand a word she said. He who prowled the opposite end of the room, waiting. He who had no shred of his former self, not that, that self would be more reasonable or human than the monster in front of her. Hermione's head rolled to the other side, her cheek resting on the cold wood. She was aware, now that her fear and panic had subsided, that it was cold. It was November and all she wore was a sweater and a pair of jeans. She hadn't brought a coat, hadn't thought logically. Now, she was paying for it. In more ways than one, it would seem.

The set of eyes stood out from the dingy room, glowing brightly, maliciously. The beast stalked back and forth, eyes fixed on Hermione's limp frame. What was he, or it, waiting for? She was broken, bleeding. She had no defense, no hope of fending it off. Low snarling resonated in the empty room. The rumbling sound was all she could hear as her eyes drooped, her body twisted at an odd angle. Hermione played over the past few months in her head, over and over again. She had figured it out when Lupin began to miss classes, when he came back looking battered and beaten. What had thrown her off this time?

Hermione told herself it was his circumstance. He was in league with Voldemort, he was acting peculiar. Naturally, his becoming a werewolf was not the first thing that came to mind. Especially not after last year, not after the mission he'd been assigned. How could she have figured it out? Other than this, other than being attacked. She scolded herself, closing her eyes slowly. Why hadn't she told someone she was following him? She should have told Ginny, should have been more open with her friend. Harry and Ron were gone, gone without her while they searched for the remaining Horcruxes. This was not what she had planned. This shouldn't have been happening to her, not here, not now. It didn't seem fair that she would be left alone in the dark to die, least of all at his hand.

There were a number of people she could have blamed, that she wanted to. Harry and Ron for leaving her behind. They wrote her a letter she found the day they disappeared. They told her it was for the best, that she would be able to research for them and keep an eye on Hogwarts. Hermione felt unease rather than reassurance at this. She wanted to blame everyone, including _him_ for wrapping her up in this. Professor McGonagall for putting them together, for naming him Head Boy when he clearly did not deserve it. She could have blamed anyone, but she kept coming back to the obvious question in all this; why did she follow him? It was her fault. This was her doing.

Despite all the secrets he kept, she had become the means to her own end.

* * *

I think about you all the time,  
but I don't need the same.  
It's lonely where you are, come back down,  
and I won't tell em your name.

* * *

_She__ wanted to stay far enough behind him that he would notice her, but she wound up falling too far behind. He had disappeared beneath the Whomping Willow, down the narrow, earthen tunnel that lead to the Shrieking Shack. When she came to the end of the tunnel, she crept into the house. He was gone, he had vanished. Hermione held her wand securely, starting down the hall to the living room. Her foot caught the lip of a loose floorboard and she stumbled, cursing herself silently. Movement in the corner of the room caught her eye. A dark figure leapt up from the couch, turning to her._

"_Granger?" he asked, the fury evident in his voice. _

"_What are you doing here...in the Shrieking Shack? Why are you sneaking off like this? You've been acting strange since school began—"_

 "_Granger."_

"_I've noticed it, you know. You wake me up in the middle of the night, cursing and smashing things to bits, screaming in your sleep—"_

"_GRANGER!"_

"When_ you manage to come to class, you're covered in bruises and cuts—"_

"_Listen. To. Me."_

"_NO. You listen to me. I've noticed. I _know_ something is going on. Tell me...or I'll have to—"_

"_Leave. Right now," he warned, his voice dangerously low. He ripped the back collar of his white button down over his head, throwing it to the side. She could hear the tearing of cotton, the scattering of buttons across the room. Hermione frowned in confusion. Something was terribly wrong...and he was taking his clothing off?_

"_Why?" she asked, taking one step closer. "You have to tell me something..."_

"_GET OUT. GET THE BLOODY HELL AWAY FROM ME, GRANGER!"_

"_Malfoy?" her voice wavered and she pointed her wand at him. _

_Hermione hoped that, in the dark, he couldn't see her hand shaking ever so slightly. She had seen him furious before, but he was a completely different person. He was hunched over, grasping his side tightly. Hermione took a few steps closer, following the slices of moonlight that leaked through the curtains. Parts of his face were illuminated. Hermione could see his face, aristocratic and quite elegant in nature, screwed up in pain. His jaw was clenched and his eyes shut tightly. A sheen of sweat glistened in the light, beads of sweat rolling down his temples. It looked like he was focussing on something intently, like he was closed off to the world. The shock of white-blonde hair stuck to his forehead. _

_Draco Malfoy let out an inhuman sound. The yell was one of indescribable agony, but the snarl tore through his chest. He heaved forward, disappeared behind the victorian sofa. She could hear the strangled sounds of pain, the unmistakable sound of nails scratching and ripping through wood. _

"_Malfoy?" she asked, taking a measured step forward. "Answer me!"_

_The couch, just in front of her, was tossed aside like it weight next to nothing. Hermione leapt back, shrieking in surprise. The tall, lanky form was difficult to mistake for anything else. After that night, the night in this very house with Lupin and Sirius, Harry and Ron, Hermione couldn't forget the distinct silhouette if she tried. _Malfoy was a werewolf_. He lurched toward her, growling. She threw herself against the wall, away from the jagged claws reaching for her. Scrambling to her feet, Hermione ran toward the decrepit kitchen. The cabinets were hanging from a single hinge, some of them missing altogether. Her eyes darted between both doors. Then he came bounding into the room from the door she had just come through. Hermione darted for the other door, running into the hallway. She looked over her shoulder, waiting for the monster to follow her. Nothing. The sound of cabinets being ripped from the walls, of rusty hinges squealing in protest, stopped._

_All she could hear was the sound of her own breathing, heavy gasps filling the silence. This was worse than the chase; the waiting. She didn't know where he was. Everything seemed to be moving in the dark. Her eyes played tricks on her, foul tricks that made her heart race. The sound of wood splintering made her jump. Her heart skipped a beat and she clutched at it, desperately trying to calm herself. There was nowhere to go in the small, dilapidated house. Nowhere to run. This is what it's like to be preyed upon, she thought; you're crippled by the fear, forced to face the worst realization—there's nothing you can do. There was no reason she of all people should be so helpless, the brightest witch of the age._

_The whine of a floorboard behind her made her racing heart come to a complete stop. She had seen enough horror movies to know what was behind her. It was always the monster, always the end to the madness. Hermione felt some comfort in the end of horror movies, but the comfort was difficult to attain now that the horror was real. She gripped her wand slowly, trying not to move perceptively. A gust of breath, heavy with a foul odor, brushed through her wild curls. In a flurry of movement, she whirled around and opened her mouth to shout a curse. The words were strangled in her mouth, though, her throat closing tightly as a crushing force threw her across the room like a rag doll.  
_

* * *

And scars are souvenirs you never lose,  
the past is never far.  
Did you lose yourself somewhere out there?  
And don't it make you sad to know that life  
is more than who we are?  


* * *

His whole body ached with a newfound pain. Draco rolled over, groaning at the little movement. It felt as though he was coming apart at the seams. He wouldn't be surprised if his joints just gave out. Hopping gingerly to his feet, Draco reached for a raggedy, dusty blanket that rested on the back of a crumbling armchair. He wrapped it around his waist, scanning the room for his clothing. If he was going to end up here after every full moon, he needed to bring some clothing. Waking up here was bad enough, but waking up here alone, naked and vulnerable, was even worse. He leaned, wincing slightly to pick up his torn button up. A few stray buttons lay scattered on the dusty floor. Draco followed the trail to a crumpled heap against the wall, a mottled trail of blood. The congealed mix of dried blood and dust covered the girl, the floor around her.

He wanted to keel over and vomit. There hadn't been close calls before. Draco had always transformed on his own and woken up in the same fashion. Her battered body was twisted oddly, her crusty curls covering her face. Why couldn't he remember her? Why couldn't he remember last night? After leaving the school his memory blurred into a series of dark shapes and shadows. As soon as the moonlight spilled over him, the full moon illuminating his eyes, he was helpless to stop it; his own personal demon. Draco swore loudly, ducking to the girl's side. He reached out and pushed her hair aside. He uttered a silent prayer to Merlin that her skin was still warm. He turned right around and cursed him at the same time, as soon as he recognized the face. Of all the people to find out. She was the one person he couldn't threaten or bribe into silence. Knowing her, she'd probably blab it to McGonagall, the Order, her precious Potter and the Weasel King. Draco fell back onto the floor, leaning against the toppled over couch.

This was a conundrum...no, a bloody mess. That's what it was. Draco Malfoy had, in an animalistic rage, almost killed the Hermione Granger. Now he was going to pay for it with his sanity... as soon as she woke up.


	2. Chapter Two: One Good Deed

**Author's Not****e**: Okay, second chapter! Thanks to the many readers who stopped by and (hopefully) read the first chapter. If you enjoyed that one, I'm hoping you'll enjoy this one just as much. I forgot to mention earlier that I would be using both Hermione and Draco's POV. I don't like differentiating between them simply because it ruins the flow of the story. I included horizontal rulers though, just to make sure people don't get confused. So...hopefully there isn't any confusion or else the story would be kinda shot... O_O ENJOY.

Disclaimer: Silly me, I forgot the most important part of my whole story in the first chapter; THE DISCLAIMER. I am a horrible HP fan, absolutely wretched. How did I forget my manners? All characters, setting, story elements, etc., etc. belong to the amazing JK Rowling. I own nothing, niets, rien, nichts, niente, absolutely nada.

* * *

Hermione slowly opened her eyes. Her eyelids were unusually heavy and her limbs felt the same way; sore with misuse. She blinked, clearing her blurred vision. It took a moment for everything to fall into place. Hermione titled her head slightly, frowning at the stone arches above her and the unnatural silence. She realized she was staring up at the high, arched ceiling of the Hospital Wing. That was odd. The last thing she remembered was—

"It's about bloody time, Granger."

The irate tone was unmistakable. Hermione sat up so suddenly her vision blurred once again. The blinding white of the beds and curtains in the room made her head spin. She reached out to steady herself, before she toppled off the bed as the blood rushed to her head. A rough, calloused hand caught her elbow. She looked down at his hand, pale against her own skin. Her eyes followed the length of his forearm, his biceps, along the contours of his face, until she looked him straight in the eye. His touch was hesitant and he pulled his hand away as swiftly as it had appeared. The steely eyes gave nothing away. She knew his secret. She knew everything, yet he remained as stoic as always.

A slight panic settled in the pit of her stomach. She knew. She should tell someone. Malfoy was a threat to everyone in the castle. What if he were to find his way back to the school during the full moon? What if he was serving a higher purpose; doing his bidding? Hermione looked past Malfoy's face, searching for Madame Pomfrey.

"She's not here."

"Who's not here?" she asked, avoiding his hard gaze.

"Madame Pomfrey."

There was a long stretch of silence between them. Hermione squinted slightly, observing Malfoy. He looked the same as always, just as exhausted as he had since the school year started. The dark circles under his eyes were even more prominent, if that was possible. Hermione though that he would look different to her, now that she knew. Maybe he would be more intimidating, but he just the same, if a bit irritated than usual. She leaned forward slightly, taking advantage of their time alone.

"I know what you are, Malfoy," she hissed.

"A saint?"

The sarcasm was dripped from his voice. She couldn't help but scoff. Hermione sat back against the white metal frame of the bed. This was perhaps the most unusual situation she had found herself in with Malfoy. He sat beside her bed, arms crossed over his chest. His button down was horribly wrinkled and the right sleeve had been rolled up to his elbow. The left sleeve was rolled down, the cuff unbuttoned. So he wanted it kept a secret. She would have thought his ego would swell with pride at having been marked. Hermione expected him to show it off to all his chums. As of late, though, his friends were less than friendly toward him.

"Don't give me that," he snapped. "If I hadn't dragged you back to the castle, you'd be bleeding to death in that mangy shack."

"If you had told me what was going on, I wouldn't have been in that situation at all!"

"Then you shouldn't have followed me," he said through clenched teeth.

Hermione could tell he was on the verge of an absolute fit. He was fighting to keep his voice level and calm, to keep from yelling at her. She had obviously overstepped her bounds. Even she could admit she shouldn't have followed him. Then again, it was what she had been left here to do. Hermione was supposed to be looking out for everyone at Hogwarts, keeping an eye on the Death Eaters within the walls. Regardless of whether or not it was justified, it had to be done.

"I bet it's killing you that you couldn't figure it out," he smirked.

It was. Hermione had been able to pinpoint all of the signs when Lupin had begun to miss his classes. Then again, she had some unintentional help from Snape. Malfoy was different, though. His family was in Voldemort's inner circle. He could have been up to anything, but the signs were there. All of them.

* * *

_Hermione walked into Ancient Runes and took the same seat she had since September. Unfortunately for her, her translating partner was Malfoy. It was already a month into the school year and she had only seen him in class a dozen times or so. He missed more class than he seemed to attend, and no one seemed to care nor notice. Even the professor took no notice. When class began, Hermione took one last fleeting look toward the door. A group of students jogged through the door, but none of them were Malfoy. The sound of flipping pages pulled her attention back to class. Although the class demanded a lot of her time and it included a large workload, she preferred to work alone. She shuddered to imagine what it would be like getting through an entire chapter of the textbook with Malfoy. It would take them twice as long to get the work done. Between bickering and blaming one another, Hermione couldn't see how it would have worked. Perhaps his poor attendance would benefit her. At least she would be able to keep her sanity in check._

* * *

_Without Harry and Ron, Hermione found herself spending more time cooped up in her common room, reading and catching up on her schoolwork. There was simply no need for her to leave other than her Head Girl duties, classes and meals. Even Quidditch games had lost their fervor and appeal. In the same manner as any other night, she had curled up on the sofa facing the fireplace. The fire crackled and cast a bright, warm glow around the room. Her eyes scanned the words on the page in front of her, demanding her complete attention. She ignored the muffled sounds coming from outside the common room. It wasn't past curfew yet and she couldn't scold any of the younger students from wandering the halls. The portrait burst open, though, revealing a fuming Malfoy, rather than a group of rambunctious first years._

"_Foul hag," he snarled, throwing his backpack at the set of study desks._

_The crash of ink bottles and books pulled Hermione from the pages of her book. She turned around, ready to tell Malfoy off. She stopped short, though. He violently pulled his tie loose, whipping it across the room. As he struggled to undo the buttons at the cuff of his shirt, she heard him mumble something about 'useless, bleeding buttons' before ripping at the material. The buttons flew off and disappeared against the carpet. It was like watching something truly horrific; Hermione couldn't tear her eyes away. He was acting like...well, like an animal. _

"_What are you looking at, Mudblood?" he asked, throwing his hands up in the air. _

 _Her mouth formed a silent 'O' of shock. Malfoy had a nasty bruise covering the entire left side of his face. His eye was a mix of scarlet and violet, almost swollen shut. There was a cut on his eyebrow and a set of shallow scratches on his jaw._

"_What happened to your face?"_

_Hermione couldn't help it. The words spilled from her mouth. She had seen Malfoy tossed across a room by a curse or a hex, but she had never seen him bruised and beaten. It looked like he had, had gotten into a scrap with someone twice his size. She closed her book, diverting all her attention to the scene before her. This was one for the books. A Malfoy who had been beaten up. He closed his eyes and his hands curled into fists. He then ran his hands through his hair, pulling at it in anger. When he looked at her, glaring at her with a newfound hatred, his platinum locks stood up in all directions. _

"_It's none of your business," he spat. "Mind your own, Granger. Did you get your manners from those useless muggle parents of yours?"_

"_I did, and they happen to be much better than the manners you get from that cockroach of a man you call a father."_

"_Listen here, you twit, I don't have time for your silly little games."_

"_You're the one who came in here, cursing and throwing a fit, Malfoy."_

_Malfoy let out a guttural snarl and started toward the stairs leading to his dormitory. The sound of his door slamming rang clearly through the common room. She winced and reached for her book. Then unmistakable sound of shouting started from Malfoy's room. She sat completely still in her place on the sofa—her hand coming to a stop—and glanced toward the stone steps. The crash of furniture being broken and hurled at the walls carried down the stairs. The shattering of glass made her jump. Hermione remained silent, holding her breath. She strained to hear the sound of footfalls or any indication that Malfoy was okay, but nothing came. The rest of the evening was spent in complete silence. Hermione spent the night reading and wondering what it was that had put Malfoy in such a terrible mood. Her mind also wandered to the source of his colourful injuries. Perhaps Ginny would know something about it at breakfast the next day._

* * *

"That Mark you're hiding is reason enough for me to think it could have been anything," she said, glancing at the wall opposite her.

* * *

Stop and stare.  
You start to wonder why you're 'here' not 'there',  
and you'd give anything to get what's fair.  
But fair ain't what you really need,  
oh, can you see what I see?

* * *

She didn't have to tell him the conversation was over, her expression said it all. Hermione focussed her glare straight ahead, refusing to glance at him. She had her arms crossed tightly against her chest, defensively. Draco took in her guarded facial characteristics; her pursed lips, her unforgiving stare. He hadn't done what he set out to do. He was here to make her swear to secrecy, to keep their night at the Shrieking Shack a secret. Instead, he'd upset her and now she wouldn't even look at him. Draco let out a sigh, dropping the harsh exterior he'd put on solely for this visit. Madame Pomfrey had run down to see Professor Sprout and he knew she'd be back any moment. He leaned toward her, his face inches from hers. Draco saw her lean away almost imperceptibly. It wasn't the first time it had happened. The Slytherins that knew, Blaise and Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle, Theo, none of them acknowledged his existence anymore. He was a vicious, blood thirsty animal to them, someone to be compared to Greyback. He wanted them to understand it wasn't a choice, that he and Greyback were nothing alike. Draco wanted to set the record straight before he was deserted by them. Though they had made their judgements, he had made his. His former friends were nothing more than cowards. When he needed them to understand, needed their help, they ignored him out of fear.

"I need you to keep it a secret, Granger," he whispered, his eyes searching her profile for any change in her expression.

_Nothing_. They sat in silence, but Draco didn't pull away.

"Please," he breathed, having to force the words out from behind his teeth. It was a word that felt strange on his tongue, abnormal and unnatural.

She turned to look at him, a frown on her face. Draco could see the disbelief and confusion playing in her eyes. He was well aware that people hated him, despised him with every ounce of their being. He could only imagine how farfetched an plea sounded coming from his mouth. Probably as absurd as an apology, not that he would be offering up one any time soon.

"What?" she asked, her voice rough with sleep.

"I need you to keep this to yourself...just for now. You can' tell Potter or Weasley, including the girl. You can't tell anyone."

 "What if I tell someone?"

Draco was willing to bet she already knew the answer to that question. She just wanted to hear it from him.

"I die."

The doors on the other end of the Hospital Wing burst open. Draco pulled away, but kept his eyes focussed on Hermione. She was staring at him with a million questions. He could see her curiosity was killing her, slowly. A set of rushed footsteps approached them quickly. She finally looked past him at their visitor.

"Hermione!"

He recognized the voice. It was the She-Weasel. As the petit redhead ran to Hermione's bedside, she glanced over her shoulder at him. Draco shot her a pointed glare before turning on his heel and walking out of the Hospital Wing. At the doors, he called out, "Don't forget what I said, Granger."

* * *

"What was that about?" Ginny asked her impatiently.

"What? What was what about?"

"Hermione!"

"You mean Malfoy?" 

"You must've really hit your head," she said, her voice worried. Ginny sat down in the seat Malfoy had just vacated moments before. Her wide eyes demanded answers, boring into her own. Hermione rubbed her temples and squeezed her eyes shut. Images of the night in the Shrieking Shack with Malfoy swam through her mind. Just then, she became acutely aware of a throbbing in the back of her head. She reached back, touching the large bump.

 "Do you remember what happened?" Ginny prompted.

"No," Hermione lied.

"You were doing your patrol last night and you were up in the astronomy tower. You must've fallen down all those stairs because Malfoy said he found you at the bottom."

"How did he find me?" Hermione asked. "He doesn't have astronomy at all."  Ginny shrugged. "He told Madame Pomfrey that he went looking for you when you never made it back to your common room."

"Oh," she said, nodding her head.

"He probably cursed you...I wouldn't put it past him, y'know. I don't know if I believe he went looking for you and just so happened to find you at the bottom of a never-ending staircase," Ginny said, glancing back at the doors.

"He didn't curse me," Hermione laughed.

"How do you know?"

She realized a moment too late that she had let something slip she wasn't supposed to know. Hermione shrugged lightly, fighting off the sudden anxiety that had taken her over. Her heart rate sped up and she could hear it pounding in her ears. _I die_. There was absolutely no reason she had to cover for him. Hermione could have just told Ginny the truth. It would be the smart thing to do, the right thing. She could be saving all of them a world of trouble by turning Malfoy in. There was nothing in it for her. Then again, that was enough of a reason to keep his secret. Hermione had never done anything for her own benefit. It was always to help others. In this case, she would be helping someone she loathed and despised. Where was the logic in that?

 "I don't, but I hardly believe that Malfoy would sneak up on me during patrols and curse me. What would that accomplish?"

"You're here, aren't you?"

"Yes, but I'm fine. Don't you think he would have used something worse. An Unforgivable, maybe?"

Ginny looked at her like she had two heads. Hermione tried to keep the uneasiness at bay, fighting to remain calm and keep a steady voice. Alarms and warning signs were going off in her head. This was so wrong, so incredibly wrong. She shouldn't be _helping_ the enemy. She should have been telling every detail to McGonagall. Hermione Granger was doing something wrong, something bad, and it was exhilarating. She would have to get Malfoy to tell her everything. Harry and Ron were off hunting for Horcruxes while she had herself a prisoner. All she had to do was threaten to tell anyone in the Order about the Dark Mark, about him being a werewolf, and he was as good as gone. He'd have a one way ticket to Azkaban. This was something Hermione was going to do. She had a feeling she'd made up her mind about this long ago.

"I suppose, but I don't believe he's completely innocent. The whole story seems a bit silly, really. And it is Malfoy, after all," Ginny reasoned.

"Yeah, it is Malfoy," she murmured.

"Why was he standing so close before?"

"Hm?"

"When I came in. Malfoy was hovering over you. It was a bit odd."

"Oh, just petty insults and bickering," Hermione lied once again. "He thinks he's some sort of hero for getting me to the Hospital Wing. I was just saying one good deed can't change an immense number of horrible ones."

"No, it can't, can it?"

"I don't believe so."


End file.
